by Rue Allyn
• • •
After their lovemaking, Electra fell back into the water with her legs wrapped around William’s waist, his hands gripping her knees. Behind her, like strands of floating seaweed, spread her long, red-gold curls. He watched her close her golden eyes and stretch out her arms, trusting him to keep her safe.
William’s body buzzed with desire as he enjoyed her almost ethereal form moving in the water. The close memory of her heat, mingled with the cold of the stream and her unapologetic passion, stirred him to want her again. He resisted, knowing she would be beside him tonight and would turn to him at his slightest touch, with a need matching his own. For now he would savour the image of her. An easy task, for with his eyes open or closed he saw only Electra.
They crawled up the bank and dozed on the picnic rug until their bodies and clothes had dried. A loud rumble, which William realised was his hungry stomach, woke him. He rolled onto his side and watched Electra sleep, his fingers lazily tracing the pebbled skin around her nipple. She was like a lazy cat as she stretched and yawned and then, shivering, tried to crawl away, toward the food.
His hunger forgotten, he grabbed her ankles. “Where do you think you’re going, my beauty?” He slid her across the rug toward him.
“I’m starving and all I can think of is Shi Liang’s pie,” she giggled, pushing his hands away and reaching for her clothes.
“Have mercy, wife. I have dire need of your body.”
She threw him a half sympathetic look and reached for the package of food. He took deep breaths with his hands cupped over his groin until the ache eased, still tempted to throw her back into the river and seduce her again. But the sight of her hungrily devouring Shi Liang’s kangaroo pie reminded him of his own hunger and he reached for a large slice. She leaned over and kissed him, leaving a taste of fatty pastry and herbs in his mouth. His body reacted immediately but he reminded himself she would be in his bed again tonight.
“Bugger waiting for tonight,” he burst out, grabbed her startled face in his and kissed her long and hard. She needed no further prompting and within seconds had shed her clothes again and was locked in his urgent embrace.
They finally stood to leave as the sun began to drop below the trees. They were bedraggled, mud splattered, and completely happy as they rode for home.
• • •
It took all Electra’s concentration to stay upright on the horse. Her eyes drooped and her shoulders slumped, loose with relaxation. A day of sun, food, water, and lovemaking had dissipated her anxieties and soothed the stress from her body. She anticipated a long night of dreamless sleep and wondered, as they approached the house, if she would even have the strength to eat dinner.
She groaned, reaching for William’s arm to point out the strange carriage in front of the house. “Oh, no, not visitors. I haven’t the strength for it.” She reached up to her turbulent curls, trying to bring some order but gave up, aware it would need more time than she had.
“Who would come at this time of evening? And look at my clothes, I’m filthy,” she grumbled as they dismounted.
William grabbed her about the waist and lifted her into the air as she squealed with delight, kicking at him to put her down. “That’s just how I like you, wild and dirty,” he laughed.
“You used to like your women washed and civilised,” said a soft, husky voice from the veranda.
William froze and the colour drained from his face as he turned toward the speaker. He lowered Electra to the ground.
“Well, darling, aren’t you going to introduce me to your little colonial playmate?”
He reached for Electra’s hand and pulled her close. “Charlotte, I’d like you to meet my wife, Electra. Electra, this is my father’s widow, Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s lips tightened into a thin line of disbelief. “Your wife? Interesting that you did not think her important enough to let your family know.”
“On the contrary, she was too important to do so.” He gave an appearance of calm but there was a distinct hardening of his eyes.
Electra looked up, shock at Charlotte’s sudden appearance rendering her speechless. Although the discussion was about her, neither of the speakers included her in the interaction. She stared, open-mouthed, at her nemesis, the woman who had haunted William for nine years, the woman she thought was no longer a threat. Charlotte was undoubtedly beautiful, irritatingly so, but there was a calculating, cold set to her face and eyes. Electra reminded herself to breathe and placed a comforting hand on her chest as if this would lessen the pounding of her heart. The shock gradually turned to anger. Anger at the pain and betrayal this woman had perpetrated on the man she loved. She glanced first at William, who had not moved toward the veranda, and met the woman’s eyes with her own.
Charlotte hesitated only a moment before picking up her skirts and running down the stairs.
“Darling Will, let’s not squabble. You know how precious you are to me,” she said, throwing her arms around him and holding him to her.
She then dabbed at her eyes and held out her hand to Electra. “And how lovely to meet you, my dear. I am sure we are going to be the best of friends.”
With her teeth clamped tight, Electra made the barest gesture of touching Charlotte’s hand. But before she could speak, Charlotte turned toward the house and called, “Isabele, come out and meet your stepbrother, William and his ah — wife.”
They all turned toward the front door as a child of about ten years of age stepped out. She had the glossy blue-black hair of her mother and her violet blue eyes, but there the similarities ceased. Her mouth was wide and generous like … like William’s. Obviously, William looked like his father.
Isabele hesitated and then slowly came down the stairs. When she reached William, she held out her hand. “How do you do. Shall I call you William or Uncle?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps Uncle Will as I’m easily old enough to be your father.”
“We didn’t know you were married, we thought it would just be us.” She nodded, with a half curtsy to Electra but did not speak to her.
William frowned but did not address the statement and instead said, “I hope your trip was pleasant enough.”
Before the child could respond, Charlotte put the back of her hand against her forehead and groaned. “Oh, Will, it was terrible, just terrible. Awful cabins, dreadful food and … ,” she leaned over, “they even had convicts on board.” She shivered and pursed her lips. “I felt quite soiled by it all.”
At that statement, Electra found her tongue. “In that case you may want to go and wash your hands after touching mine.” A hot rage rose through her body. How dare this woman, who betrayed William mercilessly, and with his father no less, pass judgement on others.
“Whatever are you talking about, my dear?” drawled Charlotte.
William put his hand on Electra’s arm, his eyes narrowed in warning, but Electra would have none of it and shook his hand away.
“Why, the fact that I myself am a transported convict.”
Two things happened at once. Charlotte gasped and clutched her heart and Isabele’s eyes widened as she looked from her mother to Electra with glee.
William muttered, “You’ve done it now,” and moving forward, caught Charlotte as she swooned. As he manoeuvred her toward the stairs, Electra grasped the reins of her horse and stormed off toward the stables.
• • •
Electra paced the veranda. Each step matching the tick of the old clock in the entrance hall as she waited for her husband. William had assisted Charlotte to her room but had been with her for longer than it took to show her the bed. The child sat on a chair, sipping placidly on a cool drink. She seemed not at all concerned at her mother’s indisposition. Electra wondered at the true nature of their relationship.
William finally came out to the veranda and spoke first to Isabele. “You can stop worrying, your mother is fine now.” He seemed oblivious to Isabele’s disinterest. “She is going to rest and tak
e supper in her room a little later. You may eat with her or you’re welcome to join Aunt Electra and myself.”
“I’d rather eat with you, Uncle Will,” she said without hesitation.
He pulled up a chair next to her and as they started to chat, Electra slipped away to wash and change for dinner.
• • •
It may have been a touch of jealousy, but Electra felt William was going out of his way to win Isabele’s favour. Of course, this thought led to thoughts of him wanting to win Charlotte’s favour through the child. She shook the thought away and turned back to the dinner conversation. But only for a moment. Another thought she could not erase was the statement the child made about her and Charlotte expecting there to be just the three of them. Obviously, Charlotte had a plan and the existence of a wife had scuttled her plan.
“No, I don’t think so, Isabele. Your mother may not like you dashing off on your first day here,” said William.
Electra realised she had missed most of the conversation and looked across at Isabele.
“I’m sorry, what is it you have been told you can’t do?”
“Uncle Will said I wasn’t to ask you to show me around the farm tomorrow in case mama did not agree.” She looked innocently over at Electra.
Electra could not resist a challenge, especially if it meant irritating Charlotte.
“Of course, I can show her around, Will. You will have work to do and that will allow Charlotte a nice rest day.”
“Oh goody, and can I ride a horse? I’ve done it before, but mama thinks a lady should sit in a carriage and not on a horse.”
“Heavens above, yes. You must ride a horse. Mustn’t she, Will? I shall have the stable boy organise a lovely, quiet pony,” said Electra, avoiding eye contact with her husband.
A pained expression crossed William’s face. It was obvious to Electra he was torn between pleasing her and not causing trouble with Charlotte. Good. Charlotte was his problem, not hers.
That night Electra moved to the far edge of the bed away from William. More than anything, she wanted him to reach out to her, gather her into the safety of his arms, and soothe her anxieties around Charlotte and the child. However, he did not attempt to touch her, but lay on his back for some time before turning to face the opposite wall. She spent a restless night imagining him leaving her for Charlotte. When she woke, he was already gone from their bed.
• • •
Aware that most children were early risers, Electra was down at breakfast before the clock struck eight. William had eaten earlier and left to see to his work before the heat set in. Charlotte, as expected, did not rise early. Isabele skipped in minutes after Electra, excited about their planned adventure.
Electra looked at Isabele’s pale blue dress with its delicately worked lace collar and ruching around the hem. “Goodness me, Isabele, how will you sit astride a saddle in all that finery. I think we will have to find something more serviceable. Besides, I don’t think the horse will care what you wear.”
Isabele giggled at Electra’s words. “You’re funny, Aunt Electra. But I must wear this, I have nothing else.”
Electra looked her up and down. “I think we might just be able to find some breeches from one of the farm lads.”
Isabele gasped in horror. “Mama will die if I wear breeches.” A slow grin spread across her face. “But of course I must, otherwise how can I ride a horse?”
Half an hour later, Electra and Isabele rode across the north paddocks of Riverside. It was obvious Isabele was not an experienced rider as her body bounced inelegantly in the saddle. She wore a straw hat for the sun and Electra had tied a yellow scarf around the waist of the smallest breeches Annie could find. They stopped for a picnic morning tea and paddled in the cool stream with Isabele squealing as tiny fish nibbled at her toes.
Neither had spoken for some time when Isabele took a deep breath and Electra turned expectantly toward her.
“I thought I was going to hate you, Aunt Electra.” Electra raised her eyebrows but let the girl continue. “Mama said we would come to Australia and take Uncle Will back with us so we wouldn’t be so lonely in the castle anymore. Then when we saw he had a wife, it felt like you had ruined everything for us.”
“And now?” asked Electra.
The child poked at the ground with a stick as she thought over her answer. “I don’t know what will happen. I only know I am having the most fun today ever, and for the first time in ages I have not felt lonely.”
Electra frowned. “You must have lots of friends at home to play with, and what about on the ship coming over? Were there no children there either? And what about your mother, surely you are company for each other?”
Isabele flashed a long-suffering look at Electra. “I am hardly ever allowed to play at home. I am tutored all morning, and in the afternoon, I must do needlework or read. Sometimes we go to London to shop but mama enjoys that, not me. There were children on the ship but I was not allowed to associate with them, and as for mama and I being company for each other?” The little girl’s eyes filled with tears. “I truly think mama sees me as a nuisance and most probably wishes I was never born.”
“I cannot believe that for a moment, she loves you dearly,” said Electra putting her arm around the girl.
“No, that is what she wishes others to think but I heard her tell papa once that I should have been a boy because that is what she hoped for.” She poked more aggressively with the stick.
“Nonsense, you must have misunderstood.”
“I didn’t misunderstand.” She raised her eyes to Electra’s. “On the ship coming over she got very angry and told me if I had been a boy I could have inherited and been the earl and then she wouldn’t have to come traipsing halfway across the world — ,” she gasped putting a hand over her mouth, perhaps realising she had said too much.
Electra stopped herself from making a very angry and unladylike comment about the girl’s mother. Instead, she caught Isabele in her arms and tickled her. Then she ran to the stream, throwing sprays of cold water at the child until she laughingly joined in, splashing Electra until they were both soaked through.
They were packing up their picnic when Isabele asked another question. “Aunt Electra, do you think Uncle Will would know why my papa was always too busy to spend time with me? Do you think it’s because men don’t like children much?”
Electra’s heart constricted. It seemed Charlotte and the earl virtually ignored the little girl; Isabele was isolated from other children and forced to live a replica of a dull adult existence. Further, she had been made to feel it was her fault she was not a boy who could share interests with her father and eventually inherit the title and estate in William’s absence. What must her childhood have been like until now? Such a sad situation.
She bent over and turned Isabele to face her. “We never know what people are thinking. Mothers and fathers have so many problems of their own to deal with; sometimes they forget you are waiting for their attention. I am sure it was never intentional.”
Isabele shrugged. “Maybe.” She stood up and walked to her horse.
Their return was more leisurely in deference to Isabele’s aching body. The horse riding had tested muscles she never normally used. It was mid-afternoon and both were extremely hungry as they left the horses with the stable hand and made their way into the house.
“Wash up and change and we will have something to eat,” said Electra as they passed through the house.
“What on earth — ?” Charlotte appeared at the door of the drawing room as Isabele tried to slip up to her room to change. She grabbed Isabele by the arm and spun her around. “How dare you get about like a common street urchin? Get to your room and stay there!”
And as Electra tried to explain, Charlotte turned her back and walked into the room, back to the sofa she had been sharing with William.
Chapter Twenty
Electra sent a scalding look at her husband, spun around, and walked toward the kitchen.
She did not miss the look of smug satisfaction that crossed Charlotte’s face. Electra’s fierce bravado was a cover for the suffocating heaviness in her chest at seeing them together. Tears burned her eyes and she swallowed back her fear that William would now redirect his emotions to the cool, beautiful Charlotte. After all, she was his first love, a love that haunted him for nearly ten years. Electra knew she could not compete.
She stumbled into the familiar, warm fug of the kitchen and sat on the little stool Mary used when chopping and kneading for Shi Liang. The little cook was nowhere to be seen. A pungent rabbit stew bubbled in a large pot over the fire, and the sharp tang of yeast drew her attention to freshly baked bread. She took a deep breath of the fragrant aromas and gagged as a sudden wave of nausea gripped her. She lurched to the door, taking great gulps of fresh air until it passed. This was ridiculous. To allow the woman to make her physically sick would play right into her cunning hands. Electra wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead and pondered her next move.
First she would feed poor, chastised Isabele. Electra recalled her own childhood. Of days spent riding in the country and the insatiable hunger on her return. She looked dubiously back into the kitchen. Satisfied her nausea had passed, she retrieved a bowl and ladled the steaming stew into it. Next she broke off a chunk of the freshly baked bread, put them onto a tray and headed into the house. A quick glance into the drawing room revealed Charlotte sitting alone stabbing at her embroidery. William was nowhere to be seen.
Electra crept upstairs, careful not to be seen by Charlotte. She nudged the slightly ajar door open with her foot and carried the food into the room. Isabele lay across the bed, her body heaving with silent sobs. Electra cleared her throat and the child leapt to her feet, sucking back a sharp breath. When she saw who it was, she slowly exhaled and lowered herself back onto the bed.
“Oh! I thought it was mama. She gets ever so angry when I cry,” she hiccoughed, as a sob caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as she saw the bowl of stew in Electra’s hand. “You’ve brought some food. Am I allowed to have it? It smells wonderful.” She rubbed her hands impatiently on the coverlet of the bed, waiting for permission to eat.
